Maternal Instincts
by HotlipsPierce
Summary: Five conversations Cuddy has on flights back home.


**Maternal Instincts**

by HotlipsPierce

**A/N: My second submission for Cuddyfest, prompt 69: Five conversations Cuddy has on flights back home. All usual disclaimers apply. All the love in the world goes to my beautiful beta, travlncarrie.**

"Hello, Baby."

_Hello, Mommy_

"Do you like your first flight so far?"

_Yep!_

"Good. Oh, look, there's the Mississippi River! I learned to spell that word last year in kindergarten. Let me hold you up to the window. See it?"

_Yes, Mommy._

"You're very beautiful, Baby."

_So are you, Mommy._

"Oh! It looks like your stuffing is coming out again. Let me get the doctor kit to stitch you back together."

_Okay._

"This would be a lot easier if the needle wasn't plastic. There. All better. Do you want a hug?"

_Hug, please. Mommy?_

"Yes, Baby."

_I'm scared now._

"Okay. I'll sing. Hush little baby, don't say a word. Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird don't sing, Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring. Better?"

_Better. Love you, Mommy._

"Lisa!" The six-year-old's head shot up, startled at the intrusion.

"Yes, Mommy?"

"Lisa, stop talking and singing to your doll. People are staring."

"But, Mommy, the baby was scared."

The mother plastered on a smile that her young daughter knew even then to be condescending. "Of course she is, darling. But let's be quiet now, okay?"

"Okay." The little girl waited until her mother was re-immersed in her Harlequin romance before subtly leaning over to whisper in her doll's ear, "I love you, too."

HOUSE

The aged lady with the Christmas tree earrings was bemused by the young woman sitting beside her. An obvious Type-A personality, the girl with the frizzy hair was currently making sure her bag of peanuts was perfectly aligned with the edge of her tray-table. "First flight, dear?"

"Huh? Oh, no," she blushed. "Just my first flight back home in a while. I just finished my first semester at Michigan."

"Good for you. Excited to be back in New Jersey for the holidays?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Doesn't really sound like the Christmas spirit to me."

"Well, I'm Jewish."

"I'm sorry," she hurriedly amended. "I didn't mean -- "

"Ma'am, it's okay." Laughing nervously, she continued. "I'm just not really looking forward to seeing certain members of my family."

"Oh, like cousins or siblings or..."

"My mother."

"I see."

"Yeah."

"At your age, dear, mothers are always hard to deal with."

"Do they always discourage their daughters' dreams?"

"She doesn't like that you're at school so far away from home?"

"More like she doesn't like that I'm going to be a doctor. Wants me to get my M-R-S instead."

"Oh." The older woman visibly darkened and turned away from the girl.

"Is there something wrong, ma'am?"

"You don't want to hear my opinions, sweetie."

"No, I do." She had a feeling she knew what this lady was going to say, and she never turned away from an argument.

"It's just that...well...I must agree with your mother. Those kinds of careers are best left to the men. Don't want to miss out on your chance for a family, you know."

"Ma'am, I don't mean to offend, but this is 1984. There is no reason to believe that a woman can't perform exactly the same jobs as a man, especially in the medical industry. I graduated high school with a 4.0 GPA, and I received a 1590 on the SAT. I also earned a 4.0 this semester. I love helping people. Why shouldn't I be a doctor? The Equal Rights Amendment may not have passed, but women deserve equal rights." She stopped mid-rant when she saw a wry smile develop on the other woman's face. "What?"

"What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Lisa. Lisa Cuddy."

"Well, Lisa Cuddy, good for you."

"Hmm...?"

"Don't ever let anyone tell you no."

HOUSE

"Excuse me." The woman got no response. "Excuse me, ma'am." Still nothing. "Ma'am!"

"What? Oh! I'm so, so sorry." The slightly older woman quickly got up from her aisle seat to let the other passenger get to her seat by the window.

"It's all right. Just a little harder to move these days."

"I can see! I hope you don't mind my asking, but when are you due?"

"September. Another two months before --"

"-- before your OBGYN won't let you fly anymore. I know that well. I'm a doctor, too."

"Oh, really? Where at?"

"Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital."

"I've heard wonderful things about your maternity ward. Considered going there myself, but Princeton Gen is just closer."

"I completely understand. No hard feelings."

"So what were you so engrossed in before?"

"Before? Oh, you mean just now." She sighed. "The Journal of Pain and Symptom Management."

"Pain? That doesn't sound like fun."

"Well, I'm researching something for a friend."

"Your friend's in pain?"

"Chronic, yes. Too much pain these days. He's helped me with a very big project recently, and I was hoping to be able to pay him back."

"A big project? For the hospital?"

"More personally, actually." The doctor fidgeted a bit, obviously uncomfortable with the subject. "I guess I can tell you -- IVF treatment."

"We conceived with IVF!"

"You did?"

"Yep, took three tries, but we got her."

"I'm so happy for you."

"So your friend's helped you with the injections?"

"Yes."

"The good ones are always taken or gay, aren't they?"

"Come again?"

"I assumed that since he's your friend and not your husband or boyfriend..."

"Oh! Oh, no. No, this guy's as straight as a ... really straight thing."

The blonde-haired woman giggled. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insinuate anything."

"It's okay. I understand the confusion. No, actually he's one of my employees."

"Wow, deserves a raise, then."

"Or help with his pain."

"Or help with his pain." The pregnant woman paused, trying to find the right words. "He must really care about you."

"Ha! Yeah right. His mischief is the reason I have no life."

"And yet...he's giving you life."

HOUSE

"Those are a lot of numbers."

"Excuse me?"

"On the paper you're reading -- lots of numbers."

"Oh, yes. It's called a budget."

The young girl nodded in understanding. "I'm Maddie." She stuck out her hand.

"I'm Lisa," the older woman replied, shaking the proffered hand. "How old are you, Maddie?"

"Six."

"And you're flying across the country all by yourself?"

She nodded once more. "My mommy lives in Ft. Worth, and my daddy lives in Princeton. They're divorced. I fly back and forth. Are you flying all by yourself, too?"

"Well... yes. I had a meeting in Dallas. What's that you're writing?"

"My novel."

"Cool! What's it called?"

"'Fluffy Bunny and the Perils of Existentialism.'"

The woman was speechless. When she could find her voice again, she asked, "What... What's it about?"

"It's about my bunny Fluffy," she began, producing said stuffed animal, "and he's taking the class my daddy teaches at Princeton."

"On the perils of existentialism?"

The child looked at her new friend in wonder, "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess," she chuckled. "So has your mommy or daddy read your novel yet?"

"No. They say I should write less and go play outside more. They want me to play soccer, but I want to write."

The woman suddenly leaned over and whispered in the young girl's ear, "Don't ever let anyone tell you no."

The six-year-old smiled. "Do you have kids, Lisa?"

Little Maddie was not yet old enough to recognize the look of disappointment in Lisa's eyes. "No, sweetie, I don't."

"Oh. You'd make a good mommy."

HOUSE

If asked, the majority of the passengers on flight 1128 from O'Hare to Newark would probably guess that the three haggard-looking professionals in row twelve were returning from an exhausting conference or perhaps a failed business dealing. Few would realize that they were, in fact, coming home from the funeral of the girlfriend of the younger man in the aisle seat; a funeral that would have been prevented had the older man in the window seat simply chosen to drink himself senseless at home. And of these few astute travelers, presumably none would agree with the woman sitting in between them, who was unyielding in her steadfast support of _both_ these men during this tragic and trying time.

Cuddy pondered these hypothetical critics as she fiddled with her bag of peanuts. If she could have, she would have jumped up on her seat and screamed, "Fuck off!" at the top of her lungs. No one was going to tell her how to treat Wilson and House; they both deserved her unconditional friendship.

Surreptitiously observing Wilson out of the corner of her eye, Cuddy wondered what was going through his mind right now. Amber's family had taken care of all the arrangements and, after the burial, had told him that he would probably be most comfortable grieving amongst familiar surroundings. She doubted the wisdom of that advice, no more so than when Wilson abruptly turned his head and caught her gaze. The look he gave her seemingly told her a million things at once: _Nothing's familiar anymore. Why Amber? Why me? Why now? I can't do this._

Cuddy did the only thing that she could think to do -- she reached over and grasped his hand as firmly as possible, hoping that he would understand:_ You can do this. You're strong. We'll get through the pain together._

"Thank you," he whispered.

She nodded in reply, trying mightily to blink back the tears, failing miserably. It was a strange thing, their friendship; more often than not, the only subject they ever talked about was House. She quietly smiled to herself as she recalled the havoc Wilson and House had caused since she'd become Dean. Before House's infarction, the two were known for hurling water balloons off their balcony at doctors by whom House felt he'd been wronged. Then there was time that House called Wilson into the clinic for a consult as an "implants expert." Of course, she could never forget when they ran a PCR test on her, valiantly proving that she did not, in fact, have cancer.

Cuddy had once overheard a board member referring to House and Wilson as "The Terrible Twins." She definitely would have agreed with that remark, although stipulating that they were fraternal rather than identical twins. Both were roguish creatures, but House tended to be more flamboyant in his high jinx where Wilson was more subtle. Both were dedicated to their profession -- Wilson showed it through his bedside manner, House through his diagnoses. Both cared about her, but Wilson told her of his fondness whereas House showed her his. And like most twins, Cuddy knew that their thought processes tended to follow similar paths, which is how she knew that reaching over to hold House's hand was exactly the right thing to do at that moment.

She was surprised to feel her hand shaking. Looking to her right, she realized that she wasn't the one trembling; House was. Whether the shaking came from the physical pain she knew that he was still experiencing or from the emotional pain she knew that he was trying to escape, it broke Cuddy's heart to watch the once-sturdy athlete falling apart. She fervently wished that she could pull her old plastic needle out of her purse and sew House's broken body and spirit back together, that she could sing his friendship with Wilson back to strength. Instead, she held him tighter, praying that he would let her in, just a bit. She was shocked when it seemed her prayer was answered -- slowly, he turned his hand, interlacing his fingers with hers. Taken aback, she looked up, only to find House's stare firmly set on the Midwestern countryside. Cuddy knew that this was the closest he would ever come to saying "Thank you."

It was then that it hit her, that everything came into focus. In the past two years, all Cuddy had wanted for her personal life was a baby, a little human being to give her existence meaning. All she had needed was a tiny person whom she could comfort and support and love and call her own. What she hadn't realized was that there was already someone in her life who fulfilled that role, two someones as a matter of fact. While House and Wilson certainly weren't in need of raising, they did seem to thrive on the support and comfort she had to offer. They were her family, and she was theirs. And though they would never come right out and tell her that they loved her, each would always be around to support and comfort her in his own way. They gave her life, and in return, she was going to keep doing everything in her power to nurse them and their relationship back to health.

Glancing both ways to make sure neither was watching her, she closed her eyes silently mouthed, "I love you, too."


End file.
